GERALD. And to think how I've been throwing you in Bob's way, and wanting you and him to be fond of each other. (Fiercely) That didn't make you think that I didn't love you?
PAMELA (faltering). I—I don't—you didn't—
GERALD. I was so confident of you. That was your fault. You made me.
PAMELA. I think you could have made me love you if you hadn't been so confident.
GERALD. I trusted you. You had told me. I knew I should never change, and I thought I knew you wouldn't.
PAMELA. I was wrong. I never did love you.
GERALD. Then why did you say—
PAMELA (looking at him rather wistfully). You're rather charming, Gerald, you know, and you—
GERALD (turning away from her furiously). Damn charming! That's what you all say. I'm sick of it! You think that if a man's charming, that's the end of him, and that all he's good for is to amuse a few old ladies at a tea party. I'm sick of it! The rude rough man with the heart of gold—that's the only sort that can have a heart at all, according to some of you.
PAMELA (utterly surprised by this). Gerald!